Chapter One
I love the forest beyond the fence. It might sound cliché, coming from a Seven, but it feels almost like a second home. It's quiet, pretty, and safely away from the prying eye of the peacekeepers, unlike the lumber forests on the other side of the district. The lumber forests are dangerous, too. In some ways, more dangerous than the wilds. Countless malfunctions and falling trees have killed unsuspecting workers. The peacekeepers tell everyone about their made-up dangers of the world beyond the fence, and they pay no attention to the ten-foot stone fence. There are many places around the poorer parts of the district where the electric wires have been mangled by vandals or have just stopped working, making the wall easy for a climber like myself to scale. One gap, right near my house, has no wire left at all, and enough cobblestones have fallen out of the wall that it's practically a ladder for me to climb. There aren't any holes in the rich part of the district, because that's where the peacekeepers live. They'd notice a malfunction there in a heartbeat. But they do their best to avoid our side.
Avery and Robin love it here, too. Not only is it peaceful, we depend on it for food. I get berries and nuts, and occasionally get a pheasant or a deer with my knives if I'm lucky. Avery can kill almost anything with his spear, but he can't tell bluebell from violet from nightshade, and so he leaves the gathering to me. And Robin is an excellent trapper. Together, we gather enough food to feed five of us for a day, and a little extra to give to the neighbors if we're careful.
I'm wandering on the forest floor alone today, humming and thinking. It's four days until the reaping, and President Gray just announced the first Quarter Quell, a "special treat" organized by the Capitol after the rebellion. Every twenty-five years, he said, there would be a Hunger Games unlike any other, one to remind the districts that the Capitol had utter control over them all. This was the first Quell, he said, and the envelope in his hand said exactly what the twist would be. After a dramatic pause, he opened the envelope, and, with a flourish, unveiled the truth: that each district would have to vote a tribute onto the games. No volunteers, no exceptions.
I wondered what kinds of insufferable weirdos would be on the games. In some of the districts, I figured, people would try to convince their neighbors to vote for them. Maybe some other districts would vote for whomever they thought was most likely to win. Maybe some parents would vote for their children, if they were as terrible as some of the parents of kids in my grade. And some would just vote people they didn't care about.
Avery probably wouldn't get voted on, because he was popular and dumb. There would be no hate votes, nor any votes of encouragement. Robin doesn't have very many friends- just her little circle, that's all. Still, though, she has the charisma of a movie star, and many people like her.
Those were where my thoughts were, on my big brother, on my little sister. Never did I ever think about my own chances.